Tears in the Rain
by skywolf666
Summary: The loss was akin to paralysis. The grief a wide, gaping chasm for which there was no filling. One had lost and mourned, as best he could, a parent already. The other was only now coming to terms with the depths of emotion they were capable of both feeling, and expressing. Now, they were well and truly alone. (BL, Character Death)


**White Clouds**

**Garreg Mach Monastery (Chapel)**

**Ethereal Moon**

**Year 1180**

"Where is she...?"

The rain was pounding down hard, but it barely seemed to register to the prince of Faerghus as he cast about hopelessly for a glimpse of his professor. She and her father had headed in deeper towards the chapel's entrance, leaving him and the rest of the house behind to scour for clues of what exactly had taken place there as they waited for the knights' arrival. It wasn't as if there wasn't much to do, and he hadn't protested when he had received his orders to look after his classmates and watch for anything suspicious as she and the captain looked for an explanation for the disappearance, and transformation, of the monastery's students. Rather, it made sense. The class could protect themselves, and needed to be in large numbers just in case there was another set of monsters laying in ambush, and his professor and her father could easily take care of themselves if such a thing were to be the case.

Yet, there were no sounds of battle. Just rainfall, constant and loud and almost drowning out the sounds of his classmates as they combed over the battlefield and spoke quietly, fearfully to one another. When the monsters had been struck down and the students they had been hunting saved, it had been with horror that they watched the corpses of the creatures decompose to leave behind the broken and battered bodies of their fellow students. Transformed against their will, turned into the same exact monsters Miklan had become when he had handled the Lance of Ruin, and it had left them all stunned as they understood that whatever conspiracy had occurred in Remire had followed them back to the monastery grounds, and claimed more victims there now, too.

It felt like a nightmare that they could not wake from. Like so many of those dreams that had slowly, surely, had come to return to haunt his nights and keep him awake long after he should have been sleeping. His headaches had returned, too. Was it a sign? Was something coming, something that he had been hoping for, or was it something far worse? Dimitri wasn't entirely sure which of the options he preferred. How long had he wanted vengeance? How long had he hoped and prayed for his chance? Yet... All of that, all that had driven him since he was a child standing in the flames that had taken all he had ever known and loved... It seemed to be washed away with the rain, and with the growing concern that strangled his heart the longer his professor was gone from his sight.

It made him pause in his search, made his hand tighten instinctively on his lance, and his stomach seemed to seize with pain. Was she becoming more of a priority than what he had been chasing for all these years? Was that even permissible? He had chosen this path. He had committed himself to this path. He had no right to turn away from it. No excuse to abandon his duties to the fallen. Yet, there remained that twisting feeling, deep within his chest that made those things, those ever-so-important things, threaten to fade away. And he wasn't sure what to do with it, as he stood still and uncertain as the rain hammered down like tiny, frozen lances on his skin.

"Dimitri! Dimitri, I've found her!"

Annette's yelling broke through the fog that had begun to seep its way into his head, and he shook himself wildly as he turned in the direction of his house's finest dark mage. The tangerine-haired girl looked pale, and her eyes were wide as she came running towards him from the north, stumbling and skidding in the mud but somehow managing to keep her feet as she went. He faintly heard the voices of his comrades, also attracted by Annette's clear shouting, but they remained far enough away that he didn't pay them any mind as he called back, "Where?"

"The chapel's entrance, but something's wrong!" Annette only paused momentarily to grab his arm, turning back in the direction she had come from as swiftly as the mud underneath her feet would allow. Dimitri did not resist her grasp, rather following her without hesitation, and she was glad for it as her heart pounded rapidly in her ears. She had only caught the faintest glimpse, the quickest sight before better sense warned her to go back for the others rather than rush forward on her own, and she hoped beyond hope she hadn't made a mistake as she burst into a sprint back where she had came with Dimitri following suit, "The captain was on the ground! I think he might be hurt!"

The words chilled his blood, and for a moment, Dimitri almost wanted to stop dead in his tracks at the thought. Anything, or anyone, capable of taking out the Blade Breaker was more than capable of harming the Blue Lion's professor. He heard himself snarling as he ran, his mind abruptly overwhelmed by bloody images of broken bodies, shattered bones and unending pools of blood spreading amongst the rain. Yet there were no flames. No screams. No voices. Just silence, and the image of his teacher, his professor, laying still and cold and far, so far, out of his reach. "And the professor?!"

"Tending to him, I think! But I didn't want to waste time looking if he needs a healer!" Annette's answer came sharp and urgent, and Dimitri became only numbly aware that she was falling behind as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He understood her concern. Her passion for magic was strong, but her skills lay in offense, not in healing. That was the role Mercedes filled, and she was right to double back to inform them of what she'd seen if anyone was in need of medical attention that they couldn't provide with vulneraries alone. A quick look over his shoulder let him catch a glimpse of her blond hair in the midst of the group following behind the two of them, and reassured, he needed nothing else as he let his natural strength carry him faster forward and far ahead of his classmates.

He wasn't sure how far behind they fell as the chapel came into his sights, nor could he hear Annette's voice anymore either as he spotted exactly what it was she said she saw. A figure _was_ laying on the ground, partially obscured by the rain, but he didn't need to see much to know it was not his professor. No, she was kneeling next to that figure, and the cold he felt from the falling downpour suddenly felt like a warm summer's breeze at the abrupt realization of what he was really seeing. He knew this scene. How many times had he watched it play out in his own mind's eye? And now there it was again, but this time, he was an observer, not the one laying still, or kneeling over the fallen.

Through the rain, he could hear it. The soft, strained sounds of sobbing, and he watched, both transfixed with horror and agony, as his professor knelt down over the body of her father and cried. There was no doubting what he was seeing. Jeralt lay dead, the knife that had been used to kill him fallen not a meter away from his corpse, while his professor knelt next to him in the mud and wept onto his chest. She was bent double over him, hands clutching at the front of his jacket as her body shook with uncontrolled sobbing, and for what felt like forever, Dimitri had absolutely no idea what to do.

He could hear his classmates approaching rapidly behind now that he had frozen in his tracks, but they were less than a footnote to him as he stared at the sight before him, almost uncomprehending. He had never seen her shed tears. Had never thought he would see a situation where they would be called for. At least... Not like this. At graduation, perhaps, he had hoped that maybe she would shed one or two, for the students she loved moving on with their lives and leaving the monastery behind. Leaving _her _behind. But those were meant to be happy tears. Bittersweet, at worst. Not this. Nothing ever, ever like this.

"Oh, no... Professor..." Mercedes' voice was a soft, anguished whisper somewhere from behind him, and he could hear her sentiments, her sympathy, being echoed as he found himself surrounded by his classmates. No one was moving past him, as if they were transfixed by what they were seeing and unable to process it themselves. The knight-captain, the famed Blade Breaker, was gone. What could they do? How could they possibly begin to help her? Through _this_? Were they even capable? He stood at the fore, their leader, and still he was unable to move, just like them.

No. Worse. He _had_ to move. It was his _duty_ to move. How could he stand by and watch? Do nothing? If it was him... _When_ it had been him... The thought unlocked his body, and the prince's jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth seemed to crack underneath the sudden pressure. Everything else was abruptly wiped away. The headaches. The nightmares. The voices... All of it became dim, then turned into shadows, and then disappeared like a wind blowing away the morning mist. None of it was important. Not anymore. Not when he was faced with this. With her.

A sudden pain in his palms broke the stillness, and brought movement back to his body as his fingernails punched through his skin and cut them open. He was glad for it as it freed him from the stillness, and he stepped forward as the sound of her sobs cut through him like a swordstroke. Nothing mattered. Not propriety, not good manners, and not the fact that she was his professor, or that he was her student. There was only her grief, on full display and with full, crushing weight, and he could not stand still for one more second while she cried as if her entire world had come crashing down about her.

"RAINE!"

It was a roar that shook the entire area like a roll of thunder, and Dimitri felt himself jump nearly out of his skin at the unexpected noise that cut through the rain and everything else with one clean strike. Everyone turned as one, everyone but their professor who was frozen still where she had fallen, and no one was at all surprised to see her elder brother sprinting towards them through the rain at full-tilt. His expression was frenzied, his eyes glinting with furious intent, and Dimitri found himself wondering errantly how he had found them so quickly, and came even faster. Hadn't he only just returned from a mission? He had not been with his sister or father when Alois had come running for their assistance. Yet now here he was, as if summoned by the goddess herself, and it didn't look as if the heavens could stop him as he blew right past the gathered students of the Blue Lions and towards his sister and father without a moment of hesitation.

Dimitri watched, once again frozen without consent, as Warin paused at his sister's side before dropping down onto his knees next to her. He reached for her naturally, one arm wrapping itself about her shoulder, and with barely the slightest tug he guided her into his embrace. She fell into it willingly, hands grasping for his cloak as she buried her face in his chest, and her elder brother gritted his teeth as he scooped her into his arms and cradled her close without a single word. Her sobs came louder, faster, now with the hold of her brother to keep her steady, and for one, mad moment, Dimitri felt a hot blade ram itself deep into his stomach. Was it jealousy? Rage? Guilt? He didn't know. It made no sense. Why would he feel anything at all besides relief, now that she was in her brother's capable hands? He shook his head, teeth once again grinding tightly together... No. Nothing about this made sense. His emotions least of all.

"Go get the knights. Inform them what happened here."

The order came firmly, brooking no argument, and Dimitri closed his eyes for a brief moment as Warin's harsh words washed over him like ice water. It brought him cruelly back to his senses, reminding him of what his purpose was, and he swallowed down the knot that had tangled itself tightly in his throat and made it hard to breathe. There was no use in arguing. In wanting to stay. He and his classmates were not needed. Were not wanted. They were better served turning tail to the monastery, reporting what had happened, and sending the knights back to finish with what they could not even hope to begin.

Dimitri turned his head roughly away, hearing every single broken sob his professor made like a peal of thunder in his ears despite his best efforts to tune it out. She did not need him. He was unwelcome here. That knowledge was almost harder to swallow that the sight he was witnessing, and he knew his only choice was to obey. He looked to his classmates, who were staring at him and their professor with wide, pain-filled eyes as they felt her sorrow as their own... He could at least do what his professor could not and lead in her absence, and though it was cold comfort, it was the only thing he had left to him as he told them all gruffly, "He's right... Let us return to the monastery, and find the knights. We cannot do anything now. But when she returns to us... We will be here for her. Let us go."

Warin watched them all leave as one, both grateful and pained for their obedience as he held his shaking sister as tightly to his chest as he could manage. Her tears felt hot on his neck despite the cold of the rain, and he felt his own eyes smarting as he struggled to hold them at bay. He had felt it. From as far away as he was, he had felt it, and in a blind panic he had dropped everything to find her and his father when that icy cold hand of fear had closed itself around his heart. But he had been too late, despite his frantic speed, despite knowing that something horrible had happened... His father was already dead... and his sister was already broken.

Her sword lay forgotten by his father's side, thrown aside most likely in her desperation to get to him, and not far from it was a strangely curved blade that he did not recognize. The murder weapon? He wasn't sure, but it seemed plausible enough with the facts he had at hand. It was stained with blood despite the downpour, as if mocking them with the fact that it had taken the life of their father, and he had to resist the urge to seize it and throw it as far from them as he possibly could. But his arms were full of his sister, and she was much more of a pressing concern to him as he tightened his hold on her protectively and whispered raggedly into her soaked hair, "I'm sorry. I should have been here. I'm sorry."

"It was my fault." Raine's voice was broken, raspy with her sobs, and she pulled away to look at him as the weight of her guilt threatened to crush her into a million tiny shards of herself. She could still see it happening. Replaying itself, over and over no matter how many times she tried to change it, and her body shook with agony as she forced herself to meet her brother's confused gaze and hold it. He would understand. He knew her secret. And he would judge her accordingly for her failure to act, and her failure to save their father. "I couldn't stop it. I tried. I tried to change it, but I couldn't. They stopped me before I could. And Father... I couldn't stop it...! It's my fault! This happened because of me!"

"Don't." The warning came through tightly gritted teeth, and Warin fought back the urge to release his sister and shake her roughly by the shoulders for daring to pin the blame of this on herself. He didn't need to know who had done the deed to know that she had done all that was possible in her power to stop it. If even the blessing Sothis had given her hadn't been enough... Then she was not at fault for what had happened. Whoever had sank that blade into their father was the one responsible, and he wouldn't allow for her to think otherwise. Jeralt would never have allowed for it, either. "You did everything you could. Everything. You can create miracles, but sometimes miracles aren't enough. That doesn't mean you caused this. Tell me who did, and we'll find them, and we'll make them pay for it. But don't you dare blame yourself for this."

"Monica. It was Monica."

The words came out choked, and Warin felt his hands twitch reflexively at the name of that red-headed girl that had been rescued alongside Flayn just several moons prior. That girl had killed their father? How? It made no sense. She was a waif of a girl, barely looking as if she could hold a weapon let alone use it properly, and she had managed to kill their father? He forced his eyes to his father's body, scanning him over for injuries, but he could see no wounds of any sort on his front or sides. That, in and of itself, told him all he needed to know. Monica had stabbed him in the back, likely pretending to be a rescued student giving him her gratitude before she had pulled out her dagger to kill him while he, and Raine, had been completely off their guard. But he knew of Raine's powers, and even an unsuspecting attack would not be enough if she chose to use them, and quite clearly she had if she was so convinced that this was her fault.

Again, Warin carefully wrapped his arms around his sister to hold her close as her tears continued to flow without a moment's pause down her reddened cheeks. It was such a strange sight for him, even though he was well aware that soon enough his own would break free of the dam he had set up to join her in her mourning. Only his concern for her was keeping them at bay. But never once had he, had _anyone_, ever seen her cry. To think that it would be for their father... It made his entire body ache. Still, he pushed it all aside. He had no choice but to as he pressed on in what he hoped was a calm voice despite the pain he knew they both were feeling, "How did she stop you?"

"She didn't. It was someone else. Someone... like Solon." Raine's explanation was broken, her voice weak and her hands trembling as she clutched onto her brother's cloak as if it was her only tether to the world. She didn't want to speak. Didn't want to do anything but continue to give vent to the gaping hole inside of her chest, but some, numb, part of her understood what her brother was doing as he questioned her on what had happened. It was vital information. Information she may not be able to give when time passed and the pain began to cloud the memory. But she bowed her head into his shoulder, trying to muffle her voice anyway as she explained as the sobs threatened to break again, "When I tried to turn it back... tried to kill her before she could do it... He appeared and deflected the sword. Then, it happened again... I tried... I tried everything I could think of, but he was always there. Always one step ahead of me, even when I knew...! That makes it my fault, doesn't it? I couldn't save Father. Even with this power... I couldn't save him. What use is it if I can't save my own family?! The Crest, the sword, this damned bond with Sothis...! What does any of it matter if I couldn't save my own father?!"

Warin's jaw clenched as he heard that guilt wash through her pain, straining his sister to her limits as she accepted the burden of it all too happily despite the logic clearly painting her as a victim. Of course she would blame herself for this. Hadn't his very first reaction been to do the very same? To blame himself for not being there to stop it, even if he never would have been able to change things even if had been there at all? But grief was not logical. Mourning even less so. There was only the loss, the heartbreak, and his sister had never dealt with such emotions the way he had before. It made his arms tighten carefully about her, cradling her to him as he was afraid she would simply go to pieces in his arms. The thought was not something he feared, though. If she did go to pieces, he would simply collect them and put them in order and back together. She was all he had now, and he was all she had. They could not part. It would ruin them both."Raine..."

"He said... He was happy to see that my first tears were for him..." Raine closed her eyes tightly, feeling fresh tears burst over her cheeks and burn like fire on her icy-cold skin. She could still feel him in her arms, coughing as the blood began to rise in his throat even as he looked to her and felt her tears fall onto his face. His expression had been so gentle. The way he had used to look at her when she was just a little girl, and had been in need of him more than now. He was dying, but all he cared about was her comfort, and it had made him apologize for saying he was happy that she would cry for him. "It hurts, Warin. It hurts so much. Did he know I loved him? Did I ever say it? I don't remember. I don't know if I did. What if he thought I didn't care? What if he died, thinking I didn't love him?"

The words broke him somewhere, pulling at something deep and precious inside of his chest, and Warin had to take in a deep, cold breath before he could find it in himself to speak. Anger rushed through with grief, illogical and insane, but he pushed it down viciously. It made sense for her to ask these things. How could she not, when she was grieving for the first time? She was a child, learning her own heart, long, long after anyone else ever would. He had to remember that, even if the answers to her questions were as easy to him as breathing. He drew away slowly, reaching to cup his sister's face and hold it in his cold hands so she could meet his eyes. She resisted at first, afraid and uncomfortable, but he did not let her go and waited until her eyes, still tear-filled and broken, flickered up to his own.

He spoke quietly, pushing everything down and sealing a lid upon it for another time as his instincts demanded he tend to his sister before recognizing his own wounds. There would be time for that later. She was the most important thing now, and he could wait, wait forever if that's what it took, for her to heal before he would ever admit he needed similar time and aid. His eyes burned, ferocious and serious despite his gentle hold and words when he explained calmly, "Father knew you loved him, Raine. Always. Don't doubt that. He did everything for us, and we recognized that. You don't need to say the words for someone to know how you feel. Even someone like you, Raine. He knew you loved him. And he loved you, just as much. He did not leave this world questioning how you felt about him. He left this world glad that you had grown enough to show him just how much you loved him. There is a vast difference between the two. I promise. He knew. He knew, and he was happy."

Raine grabbed at him blindly, and Warin took her silently back into his arms as she buried her face in chest and began to weep anew. He hoped he had said the right things. He wasn't sure if he did. All he knew was that it felt like the truth, but even then, telling the truth always had equal odds to causing pain as it did to healing a wound. He was no good with words. He never had been. And he cursed himself now, feeling completely helpless, as he cradled his baby sister and wondered if he would ever be able to give her what she needed to mourn their father.

"Captain! Warin! Raine!"

Warin closed his eyes as he heard Alois' voice breaking through the rain, and he turned himself slightly in the direction of the moustached knight as he came running through the downpour to find them. He had to admit, the Blue Lions worked quickly in finding the knights and sending them back to the chapel. Or perhaps he simply had lost track of time. Everything had seemed to slow down so painfully the moment he had seen the broken body of his father on the ground, and his sister collapsed on top of him as she cried for the first time in her life. He moved slowly, pushing himself to his feet and gathering his sister in his arms so she likewise could stand. She held onto him for both balance and a lifeline, and he kept a firm arm around his waist as Alois skidded to an abrupt stop near them as shock filled his face at the sight ahead of him, "Alois."

"They said that the captain... But..." Alois seemed at a loss for words, and his normally so-jovial face was completely torn asunder as he stared with open grief at the body of his captain. He closed his eyes tightly, looking away as if the very image pained him, but Warin knew that the sight would always be a flare in his mind's eye no matter how much he looked away. It would always be there, torturing him, taunting him, and ripping away at his heart until the passage of time somehow managed to start to dull the edges. His hands clenched into tight fists for a moment, a sign of his anger coming to join his grief, but all too soon they slackened and fell limp at his sides. His eyes opened again, now full of sympathy and pain as he turned them to the siblings and spoke quietly, "The rest of the knights are right behind me. They... They will do what they can for... for the captain. He will be given... full honours... And the two of you... You will be taken care of here. I swear it on your father's name."

Warin didn't say anything for a moment, both eternally grateful for Alois' tact and his knee-jerk wish to take care of the children that had been so important to the man he called his captain. He meant it, and for that and that alone, Warin trusted him wholeheartedly. He gently nudged his sister in Alois' direction, speaking over her head to the armoured man as quietly as he could, "Can you please take Raine to her quarters for me, Alois? I'll stay here and wait for the knights to arrive... But she needs to be out of the rain, and somewhere quiet for now. I don't want her questioned. Not yet. She needs time. Please, can you do this for me?"

"Her students have already taken up positions about her quarters. She will not be disturbed, I promise you." Alois took Raine at once into his hold, steadying her with a strong arm about her back, and the professor did nothing but lower her head to her feet so she would not have to look at the body of her father as she accepted Warin's decision to have her taken away. She said nothing, not to him or to Alois, but Alois seemed fully at ease with this as he supported her carefully. He only paused once before turning back into the direction of the monastery, and his voice was quiet, careful as he questioned, "And you, Warin? Is there anything that I can do for you?"

He understood what Alois was asking of him, but Warin held himself back from shaking his head and shaking away the kindness that he knew was not being given out of pity. Alois cared for him. Cared for the both of them. He was a father, too, and this was his only way of responding to the knowledge that his friend now had left behind two orphans. They were grown, they did not need their parents, but Alois did not care for such small details. They were in mourning, and at a loss. So he would do what he could, as a father and a friend, to help fill the void that could not be filled, and help them take the first few steps ahead without their father there to guide them along. That knowledge, and that knowledge alone made him lift his head to look Alois in the eyes as he answered quietly, "Can you ensure he's buried along with my mother?"

"Of course."

The easy agreement was enough, and Warin said nothing more as he watched Alois take his sister away. He was slow and gentle, patient and soft with his guiding hand, and Raine followed after him obediently, silently, as they disappeared together into the downpour. Only when they faded from his sight did Warin allow the weight on his shoulders to take him back to his knees, falling heavily into the mud, and he didn't mind as his head bowed and a shaken, broken breath came from somewhere deep in his chest. He turned his head slightly, looking to the body of his father, but all too quickly his sight turned glazed with tears and made his teeth grit down until he heard a threatening crack in his molars.

"I'm sorry, Father... I should have been there with you... If I had, maybe..."

They were useless words. He knew it as he spoke them, but he needed to let them go all the same as he reached, slowly, hesitantly, for his father's hand. It was cold, unresponsive, and the weight of it in his own only made his eyes sting all the more. First it had been his mother. Now it was his father. There was only his sister left, and the thought burnt like fire in his chest, but gave him absolutely no comfort. He forced it however to roar, feeding it with the harsh, poisonous knowledge that it would not end as simply as it had begun. No, he wouldn't permit that. Someone had conspired to take Jeralt from them... and he would part them from their lives in return. They would not get to celebrate their victory over them for long. They would learn pain, from him, or his sister, for daring to ruin them like this. He swore it. Even if it meant taking them down into the eternal flames himself. He would do this. There was simply no other choice.

He swallowed it down, as he turned away from his father and towards the knife that had been dropped to the ground nearby instead. It would be needed for later, and he reached for it even as his entire body recoiled at the thought of touching the thing that had taken his father from him. The mercenary overrode the man, and he grasped at the strange dagger's hilt and pulled it close before sheathing it into his belt. Someone smarter than him would be able to understand what kind of weapon it was, would be able to track down its user, and that information was more important than any discomfort it caused him.

The rain continued to pour down, heavy and cold, and his skin felt like ice as he sat numbly beside his father. Part of him knew he could rise, could meet the knights as they came, but he felt frozen into place. He could not abandon his father and simply give him away to strangers to handle. Jeralt deserved better than that from his eldest son. Instead he would sit where he was, letting the open skies grieve for him for the moment, and wait. He had said that he would. He would cleave to his word. When it over, perhaps... When the preparations had been made, the services done... Maybe things would be different. He wasn't sure. He couldn't say. He was muddled. Muddled and lost.

"Warin."

He hadn't heard her approach, not until she was right in front of him, and Warin almost jerked in shock as he looked up to see the sniper standing quite literally at his knees. How had he not seen her coming? Not heard her footsteps in the mud? He wasn't entirely sure, yet, the sight of her, soaked and breathless, and looking pained despite the fact that she had nothing to mourn was not at all unwelcome. She extended her hand, her violet eyes muted from both the rain and the glint of sympathy that swam deep in them, and he wondered if she had come running. She was out of breath, and there no sign of the knights anywhere behind her. She was fast, so her arrival first was not surprising, and yet... He didn't know what to think as he stared wordlessly at her gloved hand and found himself unable to move.

Shamir knelt carefully when she saw him remain frozen, eyes transfixed on her hand like he didn't know what to do with her offer, and she reached for one of his own without asking. He wasn't in the right mind to ask permission of, and his skin had grown frightfully pale from both the rain and his grief. His eyes were broken, and his expression twisted with a mixture of pain, loss, and anger. It was a familiar look, and one that jerked at her heart at the sight of it... but that didn't matter. Not right now. She had come ahead of the others, knowing what she'd find and wanting to save what little of pride he had left by being the one there first, and she grasped at his right hand and pulled him roughly, but still carefully back to his feet as she urged him quietly, "Come on. Stand up."

He followed her directions mechanically, his fingers barely grasping at hers and then releasing easily the moment his feet were found. She looked slightly to the side, taking in the fallen form of the Blade Breaker, and her lips pursed down tightly at the thought of him being found like this by his children. His expression was peaceful, as if he had died calmly in someone's arms, but that did not make her feel better about what she was seeing. It had been Raine, after all, who had been found with him according to Dimitri. And that woman, as strong and intelligent as she was, was not an emotional creature. Seeing her with Alois, looking ahead as if she could see nothing and moving only at the older man's urging, had been more than enough proof of that. She, like her brother, was broken. And there was no healing that type of grief until they were well and truly ready to begin to move on.

"The knights are a few minutes behind me. You need to get out of this downpour." Shamir kept her voice quiet but firm, knowing full well she could be met with violent resistance for daring to tell him what to do, especially when it involved leaving his father in someone else's hands. She was prepared, but ready to stand her ground in the face of his responding wrath, especially as she looked him over with a careful, wary eye. He looked like death. He'd be ill for days if she allowed him to stay here, or possibly even worse, if she didn't intervene even when it wasn't her place to do so, and though she knew it selfish... She didn't want to see him suffer further than this. She explained in a voice that took more force to stay quiet, and almost gentle as she continued, "I'll stay and wait for them. Go on. You need to take care of yourself, just as much as you took care of your sister. Go back to the monastery. Rest. We'll handle everything we can, and when we need you, we'll call."

Warin said nothing, and was faintly surprised by the lack of emotion he felt as Shamir told him calmly, firmly, what to do. He had always rankled under orders, under someone assuming they knew best, but he had nothing left in him to give now even at what usually was the worst. Perhaps he was simply spent. Or perhaps she was simply right. He didn't know, and he didn't have the energy or the will left to try to understand. He nodded numbly, deciding it best to just allow himself to be pulled along than to fight when there was no energy left in him to do so, and he positioned himself to walk by her and return to the monastery as he had been directed.

The mud under his boot almost brought him right back down into it, and he fully expected to land face-down in the muck with a hard, cold slap to the face. He was surprised however when he didn't, instead finding himself braced and caught in a warm pair of arms as a strong, steady hand grasped his shoulder to keep him from falling forwards. He froze again, though this time completely unsure as to why as the scent of pine resin and the forest filled his senses and left him both confused and yet somehow warm. Shamir's voice was in his ear as she supported him thoughtlessly, one hand on his shoulder and the other carefully pressing on his chest as she chided him almost softly, "Careful."

"It's just the rain." He meant to speak lightly, to carefully extricate himself from her steadying hold, but his body didn't obey his orders. Instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer, and he heard her inhale sharply at the contact that under any other circumstances, neither would have ever allowed. But his head was not anywhere remotely under his command, and he could not control himself as he leaned in and found his forehead resting on her shoulder. His eyes closed as he took in a shaky breath of her scent, and his right hand twitched on her hip, not realizing he had reached for her just as she had for him when he'd fell. He repeated himself hoarsely, his throat tightening as, for one brief, mad moment, he let himself go and gripped down on the only thing that was within his reach, "It's just... the rain..."

Shamir didn't move for a moment as she felt a warm tear trickle down his cold cheek to land on her neck, and her stiff body relaxed on it own without her consent. The knights were still a few minutes away. Nobody would see. As she felt his broad frame trembling as he clung to her, if one shaking hand on her hip could qualify for clinging, she found herself not really giving much of a damn if they were seen like this. He was grieving. If anyone wanted to make a remark on it, she'd happily close their yapping jaws with a fist on their chin. She could afford him this, even if it made her mind spin, and made her momentarily uncomfortable to be this close to him. It wasn't right, and she knew she'd feel strange about it later... But that wasn't important. Not right then.

"Yeah..." She let out a long, somewhat shivery breath as the hand on his shoulder slid comfortingly across his back, curling her arm about his neck to bring him a little bit closer to her. He was trembling, fingers biting into her belt to push at her skin, but she didn't mind that, either. Her other hand slid down to his hip, steadying him still further as she closed her eyes and held him, willing, if just for now, to be the rock he needed in a moment of weakness he'd never dare show anyone else. It didn't matter if it would've been anyone but her. It didn't even matter if he wasn't aware of what he was doing. He was drowning, and she was there. She wouldn't let him fall apart if she could do something about it. What would happen later would be something they could face when the time came. For now... Her fingers brushed errantly at his soaked, navy hair as she hugged him close, her voice quiet, soft, and almost tender as she agreed with him gently, "It's just the rain..."

**AN:**

**I didn't wanna write this. I really didn't... but I knew I had to. And it hurt just as much as I knew it would. Jeralt was such a good father-figure, and though there were death flags galore with him (even from the very first teaser) it was hard to not get attached. And it doesn't help that I went out of my way to try and develop his relationship with his kids more, and thus make it hurt even harder when his time finally came. It makes me wonder what might have happened had he survived, but of course, the narrative would have changed massively if he had. Being driven by pure rage and not giving a damn about what would happen to them is exactly why things happened as they did... Had Jeralt not died to trigger that emotion in them, well... Who knows how the story would have gone.**

**Still. Even with a sibling to lean on, that's not about to change this particular series' narrative. Because, of course, as most have seen... Warin is carrying more than enough rage as it is for both him and Raine. And now Raine's drowning in it of her own will... Or, well, she will be after the mourning period is briefly touched on. Poor thing never got a lot of time to mourn before things really went tits-up, did they? It was maybe four months before everything went to pot and then the war phase began? Perhaps even less? I don't much remember the timeline. I just remember it all seeming to happen so damn fast that even my head was spinning. I hate to imagine how Byleth was feeling when they had a moment to sit down and try to breathe!**

**Minor shipping goggles here and there, mostly because nothing big is going to happen until after the war phase, but I do want to lay some sturdy groundwork. There will be more to follow as I approach the timeskip, but probably not a whole lot... We'll really see as I get there, I think. But I couldn't really resist having more reaction than a bit of dialogue on the monastery grounds, and the conversation in Jeralt's office. There was a bit more deserved there, for both Warin and Raine. But that's all I'll end on now!**

**Mood: Sad.**

**Listening To: "Chandelier" - Sia **

**~ Sky**


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